


All Because of The Stradivarius

by indigomountian



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Musical Instruments, Sherlock's Violin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-18
Updated: 2013-04-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 19:56:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigomountian/pseuds/indigomountian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's granddad taught him to play the fiddle when he was young, now he wants to try Sherlock's violin while hes out for a predetermined extended amount of time, but Sherlock comes back very early.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Because of The Stradivarius

Sherlock was out, on a train actually. To Cardiff, three hours there, then however long it takes him to solve the case of... I don't even know what they were talking about, and then three hours back. Some strange man with brown hair, what looked kind of like a world war two jacket, and a smile that said _'hey bet I can fit two in these pants, wannna try?'_ came to the door and the two started talking about, dear god I still have a headache from trying to figure it out. The point was that Sherlock would be out of the house for a bare minimum of seven hours, and he had left his violin sitting right there on the table. _Right fucking there._  
   
 I try to be good I really do. I haven't touched it yet but oh it's just beautiful, I haven't played since I got out of the military. My grandfather taught me to play the fiddle when I was seven and I've been going ever since, well until a few years ago. On the way back home some of the bags went missing and they were never found. My fiddle was in one of those bags and I just never got another, it didn't feel the same, as mine had been my grandfathers. But now my fingers itch to play again.  
  
"Why the hell not?" I said aloud, really its just me what's there to be self-conscious of? I picked up the Stradivarius and bow and thought for a moment then decided on Loch Lomond, one of my grandfathers favorites. It felt wonderful to have the strings beneath my fingers again, almost like I never stopped playing at all. When I was younger I was the best in the area, my mum even sent me to competitions, I almost always won. It surprised everyone when I said I was going to medical school, everyone assuming I wanted to fiddle all my life.   
   
 I flowed from one song to the next, after this one I have to play _Ye Jacobite_. I sang along just because it's a great song to sing to, I know that you can't actually hear me well over the violin but I like singing, sue me. I started swaying with the music and happened to turn just so and caught a glimpse of the front door. Open. With a wide eyed, slack jawed Sherlock standing in it. The bow ran across the strings with a screech which masked my shout. I was caught. What _the hell_ do i do now?   
  
"Uh... Sher-lock. What are you doing here? You're supposed to be on a train to Cardiff right now." I tried to sound accusing but only got startled which was exactly what i was.  
  
"The case solved itself before I even got on the train. How did you do that." He asked snapping his jaw back in place.  
  
"Do what? Make the violin scream, you do that on occasion, only when you do it you're trying to," He stared at me like I was a two headed lizard in a tutu.  
  
"No. How did you play like that, where did you pull that from? It must have taken years of practice, but I've never seen an instrument in your hand. _Ever._ And no signs of calluses from a violin. So I ask again where did you learn that from?"  
  
"My grandfather taught me." I was on auto pilot. I don't know why I didn't want Sherlock to know, maybe it was just the thought that I knew something that Sherlock the great and powerful didn't, even if it was about myself. If we're counting inner thoughts that Sherlock doesn't know then I have two secrets. Though in this second I'm far more concerned with the spark of interest in his eyes that I've only ever seen in the presence of a gruesome murder.  
  
"Do it again."  
  
"I'm not a dancing monkey Sherlock," Though that's what I must look like in his eyes and that's a really depressing thought.  
  
"Of course you're not, dancing monkeys wear little fezzes and vests, and you are someone who has an amassing talent for instruments."  
   
 I paused, he complement me, a _really nice_ complement too. "Thank you, Sherlock" He nodded.  
  
"Now play" I picked something that I had heard him playing once, I only heard part of it but I think I can imagine what  
the rest would be. I haven't heard it since but it sounded like something he was composing and I liked it immensely. As I started to play his face turned very pale then pink. After I got past the part I had heard and went on to where I thought the logical conclusion would take it he got confused, thought he was still pink. "Where- how did you. WHERE IS THE SHEET MUSIC! I thought I burned that. How did you get it?" He seemed confused and scared and angry. This isn't quite how I had expected him to react.  
  
"Sherlock there is no sheet music. why are you angry about it, that was a beautiful song?"  
  
"Of course there's sheet music. How did you learn it otherwise? Now, where is it?"  
  
"I don't have it written, I just thought about the tune and then played it, that's how i learned all my songs. I can't even read sheet music. My grandfather taught my by sound. Now sit down." I gave him a hard look and my caption voice. He sat immediately, anger forgotten in the wake of confusion again. "Good. Now, why are you so angry?"

"I wrote it for... it was a love song and then I realized that love is stupid and pointless and a lie."  
  
"Sherlock." He looked utterly defeated, "Who did you wright the song for?"  
  
"It doesn't matter anymore. I know my place." He looked a his hands like they were the saddest things in the world.   
  
"Like _hell_ it doesn't matter! Who was it for, I'll beet the shit out of them for _'teaching you your place'_ " I waited a wile.  
  
"I don't think you're really going to do that, most people find it very difficult to inflict that kind of damage on themselves." He said with a dead voice as he got up to flee.  
  
"Me, that was for _me_? Sherlock where are you going?" He wrote something like _that_ for _me!_  
   
"it is going to take approximately nine hours to gather all of my things and move them down stares to wait for Mycroft top get them. I should start now."  
   
I grabbed his arm and tugged him back onto the couch before he could get any further away. "It's not that easy, you don't just drop a bomb shell like that and then run like the wind. We're going to talk about this."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Why? WHY? _BECAUSE_ SHERLOCK, you wrote a _love song_ about me then burned it. I ask why to that?"   
  
"Because, you were never going to be more than a friend, and that hurt. In fact it still hurts."  
  
"Did you ever think to ask me about this? I think I get a choice in the matter, if I get to _'put you in your place'_  I should at least tell you where that place is."  
  
"I don't follow John." I rolled my eyes because this was just taking to long for my liking, I only ever kept two things from Sherlock and one of them was out already, may as well get rid of everything else. So I swung a leg over to straddle Sherlock's lap and sat on the man. For his part he gave a very manly confused squeak. I then grabbed his face and pulled it up to suck the breath out of him in a wonderful, still slightly confused on his end, kiss. "I do believe I'm starting to catch on but I'm not quite sure I've got it." he gave a hopeful shy smile as I brought our mouths together again.  
  
"Next time you want to tell my what I'm thinking, don't because your not always right. It's best to just come out and say it sometimes, because this has gone on for far, far to long."  
  
"I agree. But later, _defiantly not now_ , you're going to have to play that song again so I can wright it down, I like your ending by the way. Then I'm going to teach you how to read sheet music, and somewhere in between you're going to pound my brains out of my scull." The wicked man thrust up on the last word and I took a second to gasp before grinding back down and kissing him again.  
  
"You're going to pay for that, you really are." The clothing started flying every which way and I'm not sure i'll ever find those socks again. We ended up on the floor rutting against each other like animals groaning and growling; I sucked three hickeys onto his neck all visible in the shirts he wears, they were like a neon sigh saying _'mine you fuckers, back off.'_   When he came it looked like all of the thoughts that usually went through his head were gone, the only thing that could have possibly been in there way me because he was just dropping my name like a string of prayers. I came just after from the look on his face, it was gorgeous.  
   
We sat there cooling off, but eventually we did get up and take a shower. The shower is a dangerous place we eventually ended up on the floor of the tub rutting against each other, again. Sherlock was right; after that he had me play the song a few more times so he could get all the notes written down, then I fucked his brains out and he started teaching me to read music... before i fucked his brains out again. 


End file.
